Ghost of Me
by heyilikezombies
Summary: Based on Ghost of Me by Daughtry. - Sawyer has a nightmare and decides to take a walk, attempting to calm his nerves and failing miserably. What he finds on his midnight stroll is creepier than anything he might've seen in his dream.


Sawyer wakes with a start, sitting straight up, totally drenched in sweat. The dream had been so real, the clarity was eerie. It was so vivid in fact, that might've been scaring him even more than what he'd actually seen during his slumber.

He was no stranger to night frights, not by a long shot. Some nights, he'd relive the death of his parents, other ones, he'd have dreams about Cass and Clem; but to see _him_, the way that he was on the day that he -

"Sawyer?" Kate whispers groggily. _Shit._ She sits up and slips her hand into his. "What's wrong?"

The man shakes his head and gives her hand a light squeeze before letting it go. "It's nothin'," He tells her, throwing the covers off of him. "Just need some air."

Kate doesn't look convinced. "If this is about -"

"Don't," He interrupts suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. "Let it go, Freckles."

He wordlessly slips on a shirt and moves the makeshift door aside, stepping out of the tent. The night air is cool against his moist skin, sending a chill down his spine as he takes a few steps forward. A slow, steady exhale escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his dampened hair, casting his gaze out toward the ocean. He's making every effort to calm himself down, but all of his attempts at attaining any kind of peace of mind are failing.

Barefooted, James walks up to the shoreline, scooping up some water in his hands, splashing it against his face. When that doesn't help either, he bends down and picks up a rock, chucking it out at the waves with a frustrated growl. He knows there was nothing that could be done about the death of the hunter, but he still feels the guilt pressing down on him. It's already been a week since Daryl's heart stopped beating, and Sawyer still can't seem to come to terms with what's happened.

Rather than stay out there on the beach alone, the con man opts to go back to Kate. At this point, he's pretty sure that it's better to act like he's okay than to actually confront the internal demons he's facing.

So he turns back, walking down the beach, back to his tent, forcing his mind to clear. He's maybe ten steps from the entrance; he can see Kate inside, and he's about to go on in and at least _try_ to get some sleep when he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

At the treeline, there's a man standing off to one side, looking at him.

Sawyer takes a step backwards, stumbling a little bit. He doesn't move or speak, doesn't even take a breath for fear that the figure will disappear as soon as he acknowledges its presence. After a few moments, he manages to get his feet and legs working though, slowly walking toward the man at the edge of the jungle. And he doesn't move; the vision doesn't fade.

"Daryl?" Sawyer asks shakily, still cautiously moving forward.

The man in front of him shifts his crossbow on his back. "Ain't it past your bedtime?" He quips.

Sawyer can't help but crack a smile. For a moment, he forgets that he's dead. He forgets that he watched the man in front of him die a brutal death that every single one of them knew he didn't deserve. Just for the time being, it's like he's okay and none of it ever happened.

But then, inevitably, reality hits Sawyer all at once and his happiness vanishes as quickly as it had came. "What the hell're you doin' here?" He asks, stepping forward again.

"We ain't got time fer that," Daryl interrupts, moving out of the trees. "I can't stay long."

The hunter clenches his jaw before he speaks. "It wasn't your fault, what happened back there." He says, looking Sawyer right in the eye. "It wasn't yours 'r anybody else's. You gotta make sure they know that."

For one of the only times in his life, Sawyer doesn't know what to say. He just stands there, slightly nodding, trying to get his heart to slow down. He tries to tell himself that he's hallucinating or that he's still dreaming, but he knows that's not what's going on. Daryl's standing in front of him, talking to him, probably for the last time for a long _long_ while.

Daryl looks down at the ground and sighs, his face twisting into what seems like a painful grimace. "Andrea…" He says softly, shaking his head once, like he's realizing something. "I never told 'er…" He pauses, but he doesn't look up. This time, when he speaks, his voice is so low, it's almost inaudible. "Can you tell 'er I love her?"

That's when he finally picks up his head and his gaze meets Sawyer's, one set of impossibly blue eyes locked on another.

Sawyer nods again and forces a smile, his dimples peeking through his cheeks. "You got it," he says quietly.

But Daryl doesn't return the smile. He's looking at Sawyer's tent, pointing at it with his index finger before he and the con man's eyes meet again. "You keep her close," He tells him sternly. It sounds like more of a command than anything else. "Keep her safe."

Then he spins on his heel, heading back into the jungle the way he came.

_Wait_, Sawyer thinks. _Not yet._

He feels paralyzed. His lips don't move and he doesn't say anything. This entire situation has taken him by surprise, leaving him in a state near shock. Somehow, Daryl had come back to say goodbye, to make a few last requests. It certainly isn't something that happens every day, and Sawyer has every right to be as shaken up as he is. But he realizes that there's so much going unsaid between the two men, and that this may be the last opportunity he has for awhile to talk to him.

"Rambo?" He calls out. The sound of his voice bounces off the trees, and to his surprise, Daryl turns around, eyebrows raised in a silent _Yes_? Sawyer swallows hard and bows his head slightly. "Thanks."

And finally, _finally_, Daryl smiles. It's not a small smirk or a tiny upturn of the corners of his mouth; it a full grin that stretches across his lips, showing his teeth. The redneck even chuckles quietly before giving his head a single nod toward Sawyer.

"See you around, Ford," He says. And then he's gone, heading back into the jungle without another word.

Sawyer keeps his eyes locked on the spot that Daryl was just standing in for a good five minutes, like if he stares at it long enough, his **friend** will come back.

The entire time, the hunter's words run on a loop through his mind. Individually, each one sinks in slowly, leaving the lasting impression Sawyer was sure Daryl had intended to leave.

The con man looks up at the sky and smirks.

"See you around, Twinkle Toes," He whispers into the night.

And as he turns around to go back in his tent, off in the distance, he swears he hears the twang of a bow and shortly after, the sound of an arrow flying through the air.


End file.
